


Those Twisted Paths

by gyromitra



Series: And no one realized [2]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: And femdom, Apparently dominance play, F/M, Female!Jack, Genderbending, It really isn't my usual kind of shit, a little bit of sex, how do I English
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-29
Updated: 2016-10-29
Packaged: 2018-08-27 19:26:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,144
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8413756
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gyromitra/pseuds/gyromitra
Summary: Reaper and 76 worked out a pretty much functional relationship. Too bad they keep bringing up ghosts of dead people.





	

Reaper has grown fond of 76, their little arrangement works most of the time. They fight, talk, satiate their needs, suffer each other’s presence. She tolerates him on some days, he seeks her out on others.

Sometimes they meet on the battlefield by pure luck.

 

***

 

Sun pours into the plane, and Reaper wonders briefly how any human being, even enhanced, can withstand it while dressed like 76. His gaze follows her toned legs.

“I can hear you staring. Aren’t you getting bored?” She gives voice for the first time in last two hours, not looking up from her rifle.

Now it’s a single claw tip moving along the seam of her pants. 76 doesn’t react.

“Aren’t you going to meet with your little friends, mi mariposa?”

“If you mean your fingers, you can stuck them in your own ass.” Reaper laughs – it’s the delivery in that broken throaty unemotional electronic voice, but under his talons there is an edge in 76’s muscles that makes him stop, because whatever he gets now will not be given freely, and such thing interests him not. 

“Little friends in Overwatch.”

“My friends are dead. And bringing it back is a terrible idea on its own,” she adds, after a while.

His palm moves back and then rests languidly on her shin.

“Pequeña mariposa after my own mind… delicioso.”

“I’m doing everything my own way, so they can go fuck themselves,” 76 pulls the trigger. Before pulse ammunition hits, she releases rocket salvo, just to be sure. Seconds pass and the tower where the sniper was in hiding explodes and collapses down upon itself. “Overwatch. Talon. Blackwatch. What difference does it make?”

“None whatsoever, sir,” Reaper adds jokingly and he is downright startled when she rolls over, as if she were hit, and forces the rifle to his mask, anger flaring in every cell of her body. 

“I swear, if you’re going to call me Commander next, I will ventilate your brains that very second.”

“Happens often?”

“More often than I’d care to.” He sees her throat rumble below the mask, and synthesizer does not process it well - gives a strange whine instead. “Do you all honestly think that she was the only woman ever to join military?” Reaper feels the vibrations carry through air, indignation washing all over her, her chest raising slightly faster, the beat of heart spiking. All in perfect contrast with bleak, unemotional sounds that form the words coming. “Typical macho bullshit, even if the bitch’s long dead and buried.”

“She’s dead.” Reaper confirms.

“And yet you want me to play Morrison in your little fantasy?”

“A woman in position of power, mi mariposa,” he shrugs. 76 considers, seconds tickling along, and the barrel moves forward, forcing his head slightly back to the side.

“So did you whack to her?” Her chin moves forward and mood changes with an almost audible break. Honesty would be best, Reaper decides. Breathy laughter escapes his lips.

“Countless times.”

The rifle comes slightly down, resting over his sternum.

“Get off me.”

He obliges. It takes another hour before they reach the side entrance and 76 punches in codes. They are Blackwatch, not the highest access – the ones from operational batch that say I’m compromised, don’t tell anyone I’m here - but still, and Reaper feels a renewed tinge of interest in who she was before that mask. Squashes that thought before it forms fully because that is all they are to each other, simply masks.

“A gift from a friend to keep me safe,” she adds as if she knows. “No need to rouse the alarm, just yet.”

“And where is your friend now?”

“Zurich.”

This puts a stop to the conversation because suddenly there are half lidded blue eyes with whites run crimson from burst blood vessels and blood slowly seeping in from head injuries. A little trickle along the jaw line from burst eardrum. Acidic breath ever so slowly brushing his own face, gurgling, from between torn lips and reddened teeth. Fainter and fainter until world turns black.

76 is methodical in securing supplies. By the time she is done, Reaper is done with the sweep of the whole structure. Wouldn’t want anyone interrupting. However, he himself is interrupted by a pulse shot hitting wall just next to his head.

“Down, scum,” 76 circles him as he sinks to his knees. Her boot makes contact with Reaper’s back and pushes him down forcefully. “I. Said. Down.” She punctuates every word and then backs off, walking towards a singular char in the room. “Who am I?”

Reaper smirks under his mask, as she sits down, head leaning to the side.

“Commander Morrison.”

Bullet singes his arm.

“Next one goes in, Blackwatch trash. Who am I?”

“Strike-Commander Jennifer Morrison.” True to her word, bullet pierces his shoulder. “Sir,” Reaper adds. 

“No respect for the commanding officer. Hadn’t been trained proper, I see.”

“Sorry, sir.”

“Did I give you permission to speak?” 76 kicks off her boots and he remains silent, even when she unzips her pants and slides them off, throwing the article to the side. “Come here, but,” she raises the rifle singlehandedly, “Don’t get up.”

So he crawls and stops only between her splayed thighs. 76’s left leg sneaks over his shoulder, curls back behind his neck.

“Look at me,” comes the next command and Reaper follows, just in time to see her visor switch off, so he moves his own mask out of the way. “Get your dick out, but hands off. This is the only way to deal with you all Blackwatch traitors.” Her right foot descends down and teases the tip of his cock. “Now, show proper respect to your superiors. Worship your commander.”

And Reaper is indeed diligent in his task, even after she shudders and her muscles undulate.

“You can come,” next command sends a shiver down his spine as her toe travels the way down his shaft, and he does. 76’s foot comes up, smearing his own seed on his face. “Such a diligent little fool. Maybe some discipline isn’t all lost on you. What do you say, traitor?”

“Thank you, Strike-Commander, sir.” She stands up and steps over him. There’s a hum as the visor comes online the same moment doors close behind her.

 

***

 

76 stands before a mirror, and as she slowly takes her mask off she sees a broken woman that believed once, in loyalty, duty, integrity, friendship, even love. She screams at her reflection.

Once there was a man that promised to worship her, and never was she happier. It was all dust and embers in the wind now. That woman, she was dead now, and 76 was what had risen from the ashes, like a Phoenix.

76 still cries, but the tears fall not for herself, but for the ghost dredged up from the grave this day.

**Author's Note:**

> If you survived - non-English speaker, criticism welcome. I swear, this is not my usual type of story/pairing, but my mind expects it to be entertaining to explore. It's second part to The Type.


End file.
